


And you're not what I asked for

by shuderssea



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: I cried a lot writing this, M/M, TW: Vomiting, Unrequited Love, bad habits, martin breaks a heart, quite sad, rekkles still liking caps? canon, this is super angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 09:46:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17620133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuderssea/pseuds/shuderssea
Summary: And then- "Don't stop, Rasmus".And it's all of Tims fears and worst nightmares compressed into three little words.





	And you're not what I asked for

**Author's Note:**

> This is all the angsty fanfictions that i've recently read+"She used to be mine"+how sad Nemesis and Rekkles looked in the Life of Legends Vlog compelled into a mess that i've barfed up.
> 
> I just have a lot of Feelings. Feelings in General.  
> (also can't believe i've been beaten to being the first Person to upload something About Nemesis.) (I've written About another Tim for the last three years of my life, and now i should do that again, no? People with Brown hair and tired eyes called Tim are my aesthetic, lbr here)

But Tim has always had a habit of self-destructing, and so he doesn‘t break up with Martin; no, he lets the Blonde do whatever he wants to him, because he‘s young and in love, desperately so, and who cares if it hurts? Tim has always had a habit of self-destructing himself.  
Martin fucks him, hands digging into his hips, and Tim is happy when he realizes that the Older one can‘t see his face when he clears his throath.  
„ You can imagine that I‘m him“ he whispers, then, louder, „You can imagine that you‘re fucking him, not me. Caps, that is.“ He says, and a stupid part of him hopes that Martin will say something against that, that Martin will stop and that they‘ll talk things through, but nothing happens, and Tim closes his eyes and barely has enough wits to not start crying right there. Martin comes, deep inside him, and with a muffled groan; he finishes Tim off with his hand, but he doesn‘t need to stay.  
Maybe because he doesn‘t need to convince Tim any longer that he is in love with him, when Tim damn well knows that he‘s just a substitute- but it‘s okay, he tells Mads again, when the Jungler smoothes through his hair and holds him close; he tells Mads it‘s okay, because even if Martin just wants him for physical contact, then that‘s okay, because then, at least, he has something of Martin- not his heart, not his liking, but his body. And that‘s at least something, right?  
Mads shakes his head and rubs over Tims back, and Tim laughs like he isn‘t so, so terribly sad.   
Even though he knows it, it‘s his worst fears and dreams compelled into one horrible moment when he sucks Martin off, and Martin moans and then- „Don‘t stop, Rasmus“  
Tim has to pull off right there, and it‘s so disgusting, the way he leans over and wretches his guts out, heaving the entirety of his stomach onto the floor; he‘s sweating, crying as well, he thinks, as he heaves and wretches- Martin towers over him, with a look of absolute disgust on his face, for a second, but when Tim looks up, the blue eyes go softer, almost caring.  
Martin looks down at the boy who just threw up, as he pulls up his underwear again, and for one second all he wants to do is flinch away, away from this- this boy, who looks so miserable, but then he looks again, and feels like the worst possible person to ever walk the earth.  
He drops down next to Tim, letting his hands wander over the smaller boys back- he‘s so small, like, he‘s actually a branch, shaking and crying, curling up on his knees; There is a mess on the floor that Martin will have to clean up, as he pulls Tim into his lap and runs his hands through the soft hair. The Mid is still sobbing, gasping for air, shaking like a twig in a hurricane.  
Martin feels disgusting, horribly so, as he sits on the floor and lets Tim cry until the Younger boy falls asleep, face still troubled; he lifts Tim up, laying him on the bed before going downstairs, searching for cleaning materials. Eventually, he‘s done, and goes downstairs again.  
Mads is sitting on the Couch, in the dim light, reading something on his phone.  
„ You know, he isn‘t Rasmus.“ Mads says, without really looking up; Martin says nothing. Then:  
„ I know.“ He says.  
„ Tim said the Other day- he said, he doesn‘t mind being your toy if that‘s the only way he gets to have you“ Mads says, quietly so, „Martin, he‘s in love with you. And desperately so, from the looks of it. Don‘t just- just break it off. Please.“  
Martin stands there for a few minutes, then goes upstairs again; Tim is asleep in his bed, so Martin just opens up the window, so the stench of vomit isn‘t there in the morning, and goes to sleep in the Midlaners room.  
As he settles into the bed, he notices a shirt, crumbled up next to the pillow, and when he inspects it- it‘s his, a simple blue shirt, but it has his initials scribbled onto the etiquette, and it has been missing for a few weeks now- a mental image floods into his head, of Tim, curled up in this bed, cuddling- wearing?- the shirt he stole from Martins laundry; maybe he touched himself in this shirt? Maybe he wore this shirt, whispering Martins name as he came, all too hard- the image gets swatted out, but the weird, almost fuzzy feeling in Martin stays.  
„ I‘ve been unfair, haven‘t I?“ he says into the empty room as he waits for sleep to pull him under her blanket.

For what it‘s worth, Martin tries.  
He tries really hard to fall for Tim, to be nicer to him, more caring, gentler- he kisses Tim and takes him out, behaving almost- almost romantic, really. He keeps his eyes open, when Tim bounces on his lap, his cock, and he looks at him, not closing his eyes and wishing it was someone else. He tries. He really does.  
Tim doesn‘t seem to believe him, though, doesn‘t seem like he believes what Martin is telling him when they go out to eat; because, well, Tim isn‘t dumb, and even though it fills him with a twisted sense of pride, when Martin bounces him on his dick, blue eyes lingering greedily on his body, he ultimately knows that he isn‘t what Martin really wants.  
„ You don‘t need to have your eyes open“ Tim says, one night, when Martin slides into him and bites the crook out his neck, „I know that you don‘t want me“ He says.  
„ Tim“ Martin says, and Tim shakes his head, wraps his arms around Martins neck and closes his eyes, slowly fucking himself on Martin.  
„ Just- just fuck me“ He says; he doesn‘t want to talk, not any more. Not, when he knows damn well that he‘s only Martins Rebound, and that he probably will never be able to compare to Caps; Martin acting all romantic has only really showed him how much the ADC doesn‘t want Tim for Tim himself.   
Tim always had a bit of a habit of self-destructing, so he claws at Martins back, moaning into his ear and beg for Martin to fuck him harder, faster, harder for god‘s sake- the pain is numbing his core, but who cares? Tim comes over his own stomach, and he wants nothing more than to cry, maybe throw up again, but he settles for pushing Martin away from him when the ADC tries to smooth through his hair.  
Martin tilts his head, and Tim wishes that he wasn‘t so stupidly in love with him, or that he was Caps, or that Martin would be in love with him, too; he wishes Martin would stop acting romantic and nice when all he does is show Tim excactly how much he doesn‘t love Tim.  
But Tim is a weak man, especially when it comes to Martin Larsson, and so he lets the ADC get him hard again, and he lets Martin fuck him, again, with his hands- he closes his eyes when Martin slows down, kissing Tim softly, with a gentle hand running through his hair. Maybe he cries.  
„ You‘re crying so much. I‘m gonna go, fetch some water.“ Martin mumbles after he manages to get Tim off with just fingers and gentle kisses along his neck.  
„ I hate you“ Tim cries into the empty room, and he‘s suprised at his own words- he doesn‘t hate Martin, the farthest anyone can get from hating someone. Martin reappears, with a glass of water, and settles into bed, next to Tim.  
„ You don‘t have to be here“ Tim says, „I‘m too tired to do anything else tonight.“  
Martin says nothing, but he wraps his arms around Tim and pulls him down onto the bed.  
„ You don‘t need to stay“ Tim says, again, and he means: please, leave, so that i won‘t fall asleep with you next to me when you aren‘t there in the morning. Martin presses soft kisses against his neck, and Tim fights the urge to cry yet again.  
„ Good night“ He says.  
„ Good night, Tim.“   
And Tim has always had the habit of self-destructing, so he falls asleep and prays to every god there is that Martin will be there when he wakes up.  
He isn‘t; Tim latches out a hand, and sits up, and he shrieks when he sees Martin curled up with a pillow and a spare blanket on the floor, looking at his phone.  
„ You kick in your sleep.“ Martin says, simple as that.  
„ You didn‘t need to stay“ Tim says, and he is a weak man when Martin shrugs and smiles up at him for a second before standing up, stretching his arms, „You stayed.“ He says, and then, because something horrible dawns on him, „Did Caps kick?“  
„ I don‘t know“ Martin says, and Tim wants to believe him so desperately, wants to believe that Martin didn‘t just stay because Tim did something that made Martin stay, „It‘s still really early“ He adds, „Do you want to go back to sleep?“  
„ You don‘t need to stay“ Tim says, and for the first time, Martin seems to listen to him, really listen.  
„ I want to“ He says, and, again, Tim wants to believe so bad, wants nothing more than to trust Martin enough to believe that it‘s genuine when Martin nudges him away and crawls back into his bed.  
„ I‘m not Caps“ Tim says, and then again, like it‘s a mantra he needs to repeat, „I‘m not Caps, I‘m not- i‘m not him.“ He whispers- Martin says nothing, and when Tim turns around, the ADC is already asleep.  
Tim lays there, quiet for a few minutes, but he‘s not falling back asleep, so he stands up and goes downstairs.  
Mads is sitting there, reading, quietly; he looks up when Tim enters, and his eyes hush over the dark bruises on his neck.  
„ Are you happy?“ Mads asks, and then he holds his arms out, sighing ever so quietly when Tim takes the opportunity for a hug. He doesn‘t cry, but he feels like he should.  
„ Do you love Martin?“  
„ Yes. But he loves Caps.“ Tim mumbles, shaking ever so slightly, „I don‘t want just half of him.“ He adds, as if this wasn‘t absolutely visible for anyone who looked for more than a second.  
Mads smooths through his hair, and they stay like this for a few seconds, minutes, hours- until a quiet voice cuts through the silence, and it makes Tim jump back, jump up, and dash right into his room.  
„ Mads? Rasmus?“ Martin asks, and then, after a second, even quieter, „Tim?“  
Tim is already out, and Martin is left with Mads, who stares him down.  
„ How can you- how dare you?“ Mads asks, and Martin feels like the worst person on the planet again, because Mads never gets angry, much less angry at him.  
„ I‘m sorry.“ Martin says, and then, again, „I‘ll try to make it up to him.“  
„ Dates don‘t work- and fucking him won‘t either“ Mads says, and he sounds so angry, Martin can‘t help but flinch slightly, „Martin, he loves you- and if you don‘t love him, then, don‘t do this to him.“  
„ I‘ll make it up to him“ Martin repeats, because that‘s all he knows how to do- all he can do; Martin only knows one thing for sure: he can‘t let Tim go. He doesn‘t know why, he can‘t let go of the Slovene. Not yet.

Tim hates himself for letting Martin back in, for letting the ADC pull him into his room after they finally, finally won a game, finally. Only against Rogue, but who cares? At least they won something, and Tim lets Martin pull him into his room, and lets him kiss him senseless, even though he can‘t stop thinking about Martin not wanting him, only wanting Caps, and Tims body, maybe.  
He closes his eyes halfway through Martin undressing him, and so he misses Martin looking at him, only at him, for the entire night.  
„ Tim“ Martin murmurs into his neck, and Tim still has his eyes closed, so he doesn‘t see the light and the adoration that flames up when he moans and whines and bites his lip so that he doesn‘t whisper Martins name as he comes; he has his eyes closed, so he doesn‘t see how Martins face crumbles into a smile that could save worlds and blind the sun. He has his eyes closed, so he doesn‘t see how Martin traces his every feature with a look that can only be described as loving, nearly.  
„ Tim, Tim, Tim“ Martin chants his name, and Tim feels a stupid sense of pride when Martin comes, with his name on his lips for the first time.  
„ You can leave now“ Tim says and climbs down onto the bed, starts cleaning himself up quietly; Martin stands in the room for a few minutes.  
„ What if I don‘t want to?“  
And Tim hates himself, hates himself so much, because he is a stupidly weak man when it comes to Martin Larsson; he wishes he wasn‘t, but he‘s stupid and weak and he hates Martin so much, but he loves him so much that it nearly hurts.  
He‘s weak, so he lets Martin press kisses against his neck, sitting on the bed, eyes closed.  
„ We should go to sleep.“ Martin whispers, and then, „Can I stay the night?“  
„ If you want to.“ Tim says, so weak, so dumb, and so, so sad.  
He closes his eyes, and he can‘t say if he‘s still awake when he hears Martin whisper quietly.  
„ Tim, Tim, I think I‘m falling in love with you.“  
He‘s probably dreaming.


End file.
